Comfort in dark places

I wrote about my first childhood memory. It's the first complete chapter I've ever written, the first time I felt like I didn't need to keep something open for editing. That was three weeks ago. I haven't been able to touch the computer since then. 

I thought I would be weepy, but the more I remembered the less I felt like crying. I just felt numb. I feel numb. Well, sort of. I mostly feel numb. The rest of the time I feel either anger or hopelessness. I fantasize about sitting in front of my family, pulling out my loaded gun (which is funny since I have never actually loaded it) and shooting myself in the face while they watch. That doesn't make me cry either. In fact, it fills me with a satisfaction that feels selfish and naughty like setting something on fire.